The mud still felt like it was caked on his forehead. Leon Crawford rose from the crude straw bed. His body, tormented all night by indigo light and silent, wordless cries for help, was heavy as lead. Heat throbbed deep in his temples, and his throat burned with thirst. What had happened to him last night? The walls had wavered, and a phantom passage had appeared. At its end, bearers of Neptune's power had been bound in chains, staring at him with vacant indigo eyes. Had that been mere illusion? Or was it a fragment of truth, existing somewhere within this very palace? Pale early morning light filtered through an opening too small to be called a window. His breathing felt shallow, somehow not his own. He looked at the back of his hand. At the knuckles, faint traces of indigo light still lingered, ever so slightly. (*No good. If someone sees this—*) He hurriedly clenched his hand and hid it on his lap. That was when it happened. *Tap, tap.* The sound of a reserved knock echoed through the stone corridor. "Lord Leon." A clear voice, yet one that carried a certain deep, chilling coldness. It was Refia Arcronos. Leon sprang up. He glanced around the room. The disheveled straw bed, the work clothes stained with last night's sweat—everything was shabby, far too embarrassing to receive her in. "I-I'm awake... Come in." His voice was hoarse. The door was quietly pushed open. The first thing he smelled was the fragrant aroma of freshly baked bread. Then, the sweet air of honey. And faintly, from her long silver hair, a scent like a clear spring. Refia wore a white maid's uniform and carried a tray with flawless precision. Her long silver hair was tied to one side in a single tail again today, and her violet eyes shimmered gold depending on the light. She silently arranged freshly baked bread, a small bottle of honey, and steaming herbal tea on the old side table in the center of the room. There was not a single wasted motion in her every move. "[gentle]Good morning, Lord Leon. How are you feeling?" As she spoke, Refia placed her hand on Leon's forehead with a natural gesture. Her cool, slender fingertips touched his burning hot skin. At that coldness, Leon's heart gave a faint, sudden leap. "...Your fever still seems quite high." Her violet eyes gazed steadily at Leon. "Did anything unusual happen last night?" Her voice was as quiet and calm as ever. But Leon felt as if a sharp blade was hidden deep within that question, and he instinctively averted his eyes. (*—Should I tell Refia about this?*) The indigo scene from last night flashed through his mind. But, what if. What if she reported this rampage to someone? If the Cardinal Council learned of it, he wouldn't get off lightly. No, before that, it might bring danger upon her. "[serious]Nothing. I just had a bit of a bad dream." He lied. For just an instant, Refia directed her gaze toward Leon's bed. Amidst the disheveled straw, traces of indigo light that had seeped in during the night still faintly flickered. Her eyes certainly caught it. But her perfect smile did not change in the slightest. "[gentle]That must have been dreadful... Now, please have some tea. I've brewed it with extra restorative herbs. I believe it will bring your fever down." She asked nothing more about the previous night. That, more than anything, was terrifying. Leon accepted the ceramic cup offered to him. Wrapping both hands around it, a gentle warmth seeped through. He took a sip; amidst the bitterness was a faint sweetness, and the thirst in his throat was slightly quenched. "[whispers]...Thank you." "[gentle]You're most welcome, Lord Leon. Should you need anything, please call for me at any time." Leaving those words behind, Refia took the empty tray and quietly left the room. The door closed. Left alone in the room, Leon realized just how deeply he had been holding his breath. It was always like that in front of her. He wanted to talk about something. But he couldn't. It wasn't because he doubted her. It was because he didn't want to lose her. (*Is my power truly worthless?*) The phantoms of last night were seared into his mind, refusing to leave. Who were those people? Where did that passage lead? And why did a hidden passage exist beneath the Palais d'Étoile? He stood on the floor on trembling legs. (*I have to confirm it.*) With that resolve, he threw on his shabby jacket and headed for the small library in the north wing. The library in the palace's north wing was one of the few places even servants were permitted to enter. But it was a dim room, filled only with old scrolls and dusty star-calendars that no one ever read. The air was chilly, mingling the smells of mold and ink. Leon lit a candlestick and began opening old books at random. The history of the Star Class system. The hierarchy of the seven planets' powers. All of it had been drilled into him ad nauseam since childhood. Even the fragments of architectural records detailing the palace's structure were mostly known to him. But when he picked up a singed scrap of parchment that had fallen on the floor, his fingers stopped. *'—Underground Third Level. The Forbidden Archive. Those who enter without the permission of the Celestia Cardinal Council shall be punished by death—'* The text had been desperately painted over by someone, then further scorched by fire. But that single, barely legible line ignited a fire deep in Leon's chest. (*The Forbidden Archive... Underground, something like that exists?*) (*Is last night's passage—connected to this Forbidden Archive?*) Something stretched taut in the back of his mind. There was something here. A truth the kingdom was desperately trying to hide. And the key to finding it lay within his own power of Neptune. For the first time in his life, Leon felt not despair, but a faint hope within his own power. Meanwhile, Refia Arcronos walked quietly through the palace's cold stone corridors. In the scullery after finishing the morning care, she confirmed no one was watching and placed a hand against the wall. Her fingertips trembled faintly. (*Lord Leon's power has awakened.*) The indigo light residue left on the bedding. That extraordinary fever. And above all, his lie. "Nothing, just a bad dream"—that man was far too poor at lying. That purity of his was now simply painful. The Star Transmission Talisman hidden at her chest emitted a faint glow. Her heart felt as if seized by something cold. With trembling fingers, she took it out and read the characters that surfaced upon it. *'Signs of Neptune's power awakening confirmed. Grace period is twenty-four hours. Before he touches the truth, eliminate Leon Crawford by the hand of Premier—Voile Noir.'* "[whispers]...One more day." Her voice trembled. She leaned her back against the stone wall deep in the scullery and slid down to sit. Strands of her silver hair came loose and fell across her cheek. (*I am—a tool of the stars.*) Once, in a dark cell at Noir Fortress, she had been taught that. Your life belongs to the stars. The decisions of the Celestia Cardinal Council are the will of the stars. Discard emotion. Discard self. Be nothing but a blade. Following that teaching, she became Premier, the highest-ranking assassin in Voile Noir. For her mission, she infiltrated as Leon Crawford's personal maid. So that she could dispose of him immediately whenever his power awakened. (*And yet—*) What surfaced in her mind was the young Leon's smile. To the stardust boy whom even the other servants treated like a pariah, she had been kind as part of her mission. It was supposed to be nothing but an act. And yet, he always directed a truly innocent smile at Refia, the only one who told him his tiny, conjured illusions were "beautiful." The words "[whispers]It's beautiful," which I spoke, were a lie at first. But before I knew it, they had become true. His power was truly beautiful. It wasn't a power to hurt anyone. It was a gentle power, meant to touch someone's heart and know someone's pain. (*I have fallen in love with you.*) (*Even though it is taboo for a tool of the stars to love a person.*) The hand she placed against the wall clenched so tightly it turned white. What would happen if she abandoned her mission? She knew the organization's code. Her own death wouldn't be the end of it. Another assassin would target Leon, and he would be killed in a far more brutal manner. If she did it herself, she could at least kill him without suffering. That, at least, would be a mercy— "[whispers]Stop making excuses to yourself." She quietly mocked herself. In the end, it was nothing but fear of dirtying her own hands. Nothing but weakness in the face of a future without Leon. Something hot welled up in the corners of her eyes. Tears were something a first-rate assassin should never shed. But she couldn't stop them. In the early afternoon, when the sunlight had softened just a little, Leon was lost in thought alone under an old tree in a corner of the courtyard. The description of the Forbidden Archive he'd found in the library. Underground Third Level. Death penalty. Every word was turning the doubts within him into conviction. There was something in this palace that the kingdom was hiding. And perhaps only his power could reach it. (*Should I talk to Refia about it?*) It was always like this. When he was lost, he pictured her face. "[gentle]Lord Leon, so you were here." A voice called out. When he looked up, Refia was quietly approaching, carrying a tray with a water pitcher and two ceramic cups. Her silver hair shone, translucent in the sunlight filtering through the trees. Her violet eyes seemed slightly redder and more moist than usual. "[gentle]May I sit beside you?" "Ah, yeah... of course." She sat down next to him without a sound. The hem of her skirt spread softly over the dry earth. "[gentle]It's cold water with a hint of mint. You're still not quite yourself, so please." Leon obediently took the cup and had a sip. The cold water passed pleasantly through his heated throat. Silence enveloped them, leaving only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. "[serious]Lord Leon." Suddenly, Refia spoke his name in a quiet voice. "Your power... the power of Neptune, is not a power of illusion and deception as this country teaches." Leon caught his breath. She continued speaking, her gaze fixed straight ahead. "[whispers]That power is far more special than you imagine. So... please, do not delve too deeply into it. Something dangerous might happen." (*—Does Refia know something?*) Something pounded violently deep in Leon's chest. "Refia, what in the world do you—" Before he could finish, she wrapped both her hands around his with a natural gesture. Her slender, white fingers overlapped his knobby hand. At that warmth, Leon's words froze in his throat. Her fingertips gently stroked his hand, where the faint remnants of indigo power still flickered, as if handling something fragile. "[gentle]This color... it's very beautiful." It was a voice so terribly gentle, so terribly sad. Refia raised her face and directed her violet eyes straight at Leon. Seeing the complex, wavering emotion deep in those eyes—something that was neither pure devotion nor pure sorrow—Leon was at a loss for words. "[whispers]Please, take good care of yourself." Leaving those words behind, she stood up. "W-wait, Refia!" Leon shouted. (*I have to stop her now. I have to confess now.*) (*This person, I—*) But she did not turn around. Her long silver hair swayed gently as she departed, and her back quickly vanished into the shadow of the trees. Leon slowly lowered the hand he had reached out. He stared at his own palm. Her warmth still lingered. (*Were those words... a warning?*) Or was it, in her own way, the fullest confession she could give? A tight, painful ache constricted deep in his chest. This feeling wasn't